Because I could not stop for Death
by Cati-dono
Summary: My second Emily Dickinson ficlet, to the tune of her poem "Because I could not stop for Death". Dean finally faces Death for the last time. Also for amusement purposes, but be warned, there may be intense feels!


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters, and I certainly do not own the truly outstanding poetry of Emily Dickinson.

**Author's Note: **So, this is a kind of a follow-up to my other Emily Dickinson thing, because if you have ever read her poems, you know, she just wrote about Supernatural ALL THE TIME. This one is a Dean 1st person to the lines of "Because I could not stop for Death", one of her most well known poems. As always, reviews are appreciated. Last but not least, happy reading! :)

* * *

><p><em>Because I could not stop for Death -<em>

_He kindly stopped for me -_

_The Carriage held but just Ourselves -_

_And Immortality_

Dying was nothing new for me. I mean, that alone should give you an indication of what I was expecting. First thing I thought was that I probably wasn't coming back this time. And you know what? That was alright. Back when the world was burning around us, I never expected me and Sam to live long enough to retire. Certainly never expected to set up my own little auto yard and fix cars for a living. And I really didn't think I'd manage to get old. So when I fell asleep in my relatively safe bed and then opened my eyes and found myself face to face with Death, all that really surprised me was that it hadn't hurt at all. I guess at some point in the night I must have stopped breathing. "Passed in my sleep" as they say. Definitely the most pleasant way I've ever kicked the bucket.

_We slowly drove - He knew no haste_

_And I had put away_

_My labor and my leisure too,_

_For his Civility -_

Death was just like I remembered him, still creepy as hell and totally silent. The carriage or whatever we were in was moving at about three miles per hour, and finally it was just too much nothing. I asked him what he was doing there- I mean, humans are insignificant specks of dust to him, so why was he wasting his time cabby-ing me to the other side? He just gave me that stare, the one that scared me shitless when I was alive, but now it didn't faze me. I guess once you're dead nothing is really all that terrifying. Finally he whispered something about how someone upstairs had heard my complaints, but he wouldn't say anything else. So I sat and stared out the window and wondered why the damn angels could leave me alone even after I was dead.

_We passed the school where Children strove_

_At recess - in the Ring -_

_We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain -_

_We passed the Setting Sun -_

I realized that the weird landscape outside looked familiar, in a surreal way. The giant vortex in place of the sun was also a dead giveaway, no pun intended, that once again I was cruising the byways of the great beyond. As we passed by the heavens of an eight-year-old girl and a wrinkled old farmer, I asked Death where we were going again, but he wouldn't talk. So I tried to imagine Sam in his heaven, where he'd had a whole three years without me to enjoy himself. As soon as the angels were done with me this time, I was planning to crash his heaven, probably with a lot of beer in hand. We drove on, as the sun went down. Or up, or whatever, directions around here seemed to be less important than they had been on earth.

_Or rather - He passed Us -_

_The Dews drew quivering and chill -_

_For only Gossamer, my Gown -_

_My Tippet - only Tulle -_

The inside of the carriage got even colder and darker. I shivered, wondering for about the fiftieth time where the hell Death was taking me. I don't think I said it out loud, but he answered me regardless. He said we were making a detour, that there was somewhere he was told to take me before truly allowing me into heaven. The way he said it made me think that maybe I was slated for a few years of hell first, although that might just have been the way he always talks. Suddenly I felt naked, unprotected, and I stared out the window with fear instead of curiosity, straining my eyes through the murk to see what was ahead.

_We paused before a House that seemed_

_A Swelling of the Ground -_

_The Roof was scarcely visible -_

_The Cornice - in the Ground -_

Out of nowhere a light suddenly appeared, and I realized that it was from some sort of little shack built into the hill. When Death stopped the carriage in front of it and gestured for me to get out, I wasn't sure what to expect. He stood in front of me, doing his looming thing that always made me feel tiny, and tilted his head to one side. Then, in a very quiet voice, he told me that I was by far the most interesting human it had ever been his duty to meet, and that he hoped I enjoyed my reward. It was hard to tell, in the light, but I swear he smiled a little bit before he vanished into thin air. Behind me, the door of the house opened, and I heard my name in a voice I hadn't heard in far too long. I barely had time to turn before Sam was on top of me, and I don't know if you can break ribs in heaven but that hug came pretty close. When we finally let go of each other, he was smiling at me like I'd only seen him smile when we were kids.

_Since then - 'tis Centuries - and yet_

_Feels shorter than the Day_

_I first surmised the Horses' Heads_

_Were toward Eternity_

that day, I found out that Sammy and I don't have personal heavens. I guess that after everything died down, one pair of big, blue, angelic eyes was enough to make an exception in the rules for us. So no, we don't have our own heavens. All we've got is each other, an all-access pass to wherever we want to go, and a '67 Chevy that never needs gas. That first time I started the engine, I knew in my bones that Sam and I were home. I wasn't sure about reception in heaven, but just to try it, I turned the radio on as we rolled onto that heavenly highway. Turns out heaven plays one hell of a classic rock station.


End file.
